


Endure Until You Can Endure No More

by saiikavon



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anxiety, M/M, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:04:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiikavon/pseuds/saiikavon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris and Hawke are living together. They're in love. Fenris has never been happier...at least, he wants to be. He should be.<br/>So why does he still feel like he needs to run away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endure Until You Can Endure No More

**Author's Note:**

> So I have G.E.D. (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) and recently it's been acting up a lot. So what do I do for therapy? I write fanfiction. I find it soothing. So I'm including some of my personal feelings within the setting of the Fenris/Hawke dynamic. Mainly because I find Fenris a fitting character for this sort of thing.
> 
> EDIT: Decided not to continue this, so I've left it as just one chapter, just as a glimpse into Fenris' psyche.

I wake first, always first. I wake, and my heart feels like a caged animal, my muscles grow tight, but my eyes stay fixed straight ahead until I am certain Hawke has not moved. His beard tickles the back of my neck, an arm shifts around my stomach, and my jaw clenches as I will my body to relax. My heartbeat slows. But my muscles are still locked.

The cool silver light on the floor tells me that the night is nearly over. I work on a slow breath and recount the morning routine: before the sun has fully risen, I will hear Orana in the kitchen. Then the Mabari will bark, begging for scraps of today’s breakfast. Both sun and scent of roasted meat will permeate the room, and then, Hawke will wake. Then, I can escape.

It tears at my heart to think of him that way. Hawke is not someone I _need_ to escape. His arms are not chains, his love not confining…it shouldn’t be. I am safer here than I have ever been anywhere else, protected, loved, wanted, cherished. Yet every night for two months I lay here, my hands clammy, my skin crawling, counting the minutes until I can slip away.

_I am so sorry, Hawke. I will endure. I will never leave you again._

Birds chirp. The glow stretching across the carpeted floor slowly turns yellow, and I close my eyes and wait. I hardly breathe. My hands curl into fists. Any second now…

I hear Orana in the kitchen. The clatter of dishes. I hear the dog barking; Orana scolds him. I smell sage, cloves, and meat. Behind me, Hawke shifts, stirs; I feel him smiling against my neck. At last, I feel my muscles relax, and my hand rises to cover his.

“…I will go see how breakfast is coming along.”

He kisses me. I force my legs to move slowly, slipping out from under the covers, settling carefully onto the floor. There is an itch under my skin that is barely soothed by the soft carpet beneath my feet, the touch of the wooden doorframe as I exit the room. I slowly let out a breath as I descend the stairs.

I will have stifled the urge by the time he joins me. My heart will feel whole again as I look at him; I will feel at home when we read together in the study. I will fight by his side in the darkest caves or the hottest sun without a hint of that tension, that suffering, that unwelcome desire to run and never look back. I will fall into bed with him at night, hungry for his body and his affections, grasping for him until we are both exhausted. I will sleep beside him and hope, with all my heart, that Hawke’s smile, his kisses, his love, has burned the need away at last.

I will wake first the next morning, before the dawn. Always first.


End file.
